


Im-prompt-u

by CottagesAndForests



Category: N/A - Fandom
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 09:41:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24847717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CottagesAndForests/pseuds/CottagesAndForests
Summary: Just stories and poems inspired by various writing prompts.





	Im-prompt-u

**Author's Note:**

> Just a disclaimer on this one, I was in a really fantastical headspace and it got kind of wordy and metaphorical, so sorry if it's hard to read. But I'm still really pleased with how it turned out and I hope you enjoy it! It was good writing again after a pretty hard slump.

# Write a story that begins and ends with someone looking up at the stars.

Ink. The sky was inky black, like a dark blotch spreading across a canvas. I watched it slowly expand, drowning out the last hues of orange and gold cast by the setting sun. It was consuming, smothering the infinite expanse suspended above my head. As my eyes adjusted I noted white speckles wriggling their way through the sheet thrown upon them, like mites crawling on the skin of a goliath, too small for the being to care or even notice. I took a deep breath. How similar is that to us? Despite their inherently opposite nature, the earth and the sky are similar in that aspect. We walk on this earth as a flea walks on a dog. How many people have visited every corner of this earth, walked on every patch of grass, and seen the sky from every angle? From that standard the earth is almost as unfathomable.

The earth and sky, Gaia and Ouranos, Geb and Nut, so many names known by so many people throughout the years. How many humans have looked up at this same sky? I wonder what Cleopatra or Socrates thought of it all. Maybe they saw gleaming jewels sewn into a black shawl or the whites of thousands of eyes staring right back at them. It makes mites sound rather quaint in comparison. Or maybe they just saw stars, giant compressed balls of flame floating through the vast field of nothingness that is space. In a way it sounds just as fanciful. Back to the present, how many people are looking at this sky with me? I know none in my immediate surroundings, but to think none at all? To think that I'm the only being feeling the wind brush over my skin and the grass against my back, and have my eyes set on the portrait nature decided to paint tonight? It seems egotistical, but the possibility makes my heart pound. I don't really understand why. Nonetheless this moment is special, shared or not.

The sharp breeze grates across my skin, biting at my exposed hands and face and successfully bringing me back to reality. The moon peeks from behind it's shield of clouds, casting the world around me in a brilliant silver light. It's almost blinding in comparison. The field that I'm lying in is suddenly painted in startling shades of grey, and I see mist clinging to the earth. Sunken clouds, grasping at the ground, struggling to pull away from the air that draws them back to the vast arch above. Clouds walking the earth, why would they want to? The thought of the mist envying me made me chuckle. I guess I understand, if I could float through the air as a cloud even once, I'd be sorely tempted. The fear of a strong gust coming by and scattering me apart forever is my only source of hesitation. Still, if I could...

Over as quickly as it began, the moon tucked away behind it's fluffy blanket of darkness and night spread over the earth once more. I felt the wind brush over me once again, as though the earth and sky both sighed in unison. Staring up at the black canvas with the gleaming white freckles, it's getting harder and harder to tell if my eyes are open or closed. I smile in contentment. My mind is slowing at last. I close my heavy lids and let the inky blackness spread throughout my consciousness, allowing rest to finally reach me.


End file.
